Through the Grinder by Cleo Coyle Page A

“Oh.”
    “Honestly, you’re not interested in me, right?”
    He took a sip of his martini and made an unsatisfied face. “I usually go out with women much younger than you. But for thirty-nine…you actually look okay. I dislike what you’re wearing, that sweater is too big for you and I don’t like women in pants, but you have a very pretty face…In fact…” He took a closer look. “You are kinda cute.”
    “Thanks.” Creep .
    “And you look a little familiar for some reason.”
    “Ever been in the Village Blend coffeehouse—on Hudson?”
    “That’s the coffeehouse you manage? Oh, sure. I’ve been in there. Good cappuccinos.”
    “Thanks.” Okay, maybe not a total creep.
    “To be honest with you, I thought this could be more of a networking thing than a date,” he said. “I’ve arranged a new approach to fundraising that’s going to involve the sort of beautiful young women who work here. And I thought if you managed this place, then you might be able to help me secure the donation of services.”
    “Services?”
    Brooks nodded. “A lingerie show at the Puck building. And, after the show, the girls will serve drinks.”
    “While still in their underwear?”
    “Brilliant, isn’t it?” Brooks said with a grin. “I am such the Genius. The big spenders will love it, and I’ll certainly be reeling in some new whales, too. As far as the models, I’m sure, if they’re forced to work here, then they’re between gigs anyway—and they already know how to serve drinks.”
    “But why would they do it for free?”
    “Because, given the type of spenders we’ve already invited to the event—media and ad execs and the like—it will be good exposure for them.”
    “Good exposure. Right.” (Serving drinks in flimsy underwear would do that for a girl.)
    “And it’s also for a good cause,” he added.
    “What cause would that be?”
    “M.N.M. I’m in charge of their national fundraising drives for the next six months.”
    “M.N.M.? Oh, right, I’ve heard of them. Meat No More—the vegan activist organization? So that’s why you’ve only been a vegan for three days?”
    Brooks shrugged. “Let’s just say after two weeks on the job, they encouraged me to give the lifestyle a try.” He sighed, dejected. “It was just one take-out order of Chinese spare ribs delivered to their offices. You’d think I killed the damn pig myself.”
    I took another bite of my delicious Brazilian steak sandwich. He frowned at his veggie burger. Then he looked around the restaurant and whispered, “Can I have half of that?”
    I smiled. “Sure.”
    The meat seemed to restore him. He actually smiled, too. “You know, you are really cute. I don’t see why we can’t hook up…you know, just for the night.”
    “Sorry, but, uh…I do.” I almost added, “nothing personal,” but stopped myself. Of course, it was personal.
    He frowned. “Oh, well…worth a shot.” He shrugged.
    “So, what do you think of the SinglesNYC site? I mean, for my daughter?”
    “Your daughter, huh? That’s an interesting idea.” He took a drink of his martini and gave me a leer. “Does she look like a younger version of you? And if she does, what’s she doing tonight?”
    I pictured Brooks coming in for a cappuccino—and me pointing the steam valve at his face.
    “You’re too old for her,” I said with great relish.
    He shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
    Yes I can.
    “Look, SinglesNYC is a pretty edgy site. Most of the people go there to widen their sexual circle.”
    I nearly choked on my marinated cow. “Widen their what?”
    “Their sexual circle. How old is she?”
    “Nineteen. She turns twenty very soon.”
    Brooks nodded. “Tell her not to go out with anyone over twenty-five. That should help cut down on the guys who might be married. And here’s a warning label: get the guy’s home number, home address, and work number. Because if he’s reluctant to give any of those out, he could be